


And I Knew It

by SaraDobieBauer



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Babysitter Timmy, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Love at First Sight, M/M, POV Armie Hammer, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 12:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18476023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraDobieBauer/pseuds/SaraDobieBauer
Summary: Lonely widower and single dad Armie finds a last minute babysitter before leaving for a date, but Timmy turns out to be a lot more than Armie expected and might be the beautiful catalyst for healing his broken heart.





	And I Knew It

**Author's Note:**

> In Sleepless in Seattle, Tom Hanks’ character talks about how he knew he would love his future wife based on the touch of her hand:
> 
> “I knew it the first time I touched her. It was like coming home, only to no home I’d ever known. I was just taking her hand to help her out of a car and I knew it. It was like magic.”
> 
> I’ve always loved that image.
> 
> The first night I met my husband, there’s a photo of all our friends and us. Sneakily, we’re already holding hands under the dirty dive bar table. I guess I knew with Jake, too.
> 
> Anyway, this is not only a riff on Sleepless in Seattle but also a Tumblr request about Timmy being a “sexy af babysitter.” Ha! Enjoy!

Armie was going to be late for his date—and he hadn’t had a date in months, so this one was supposed to _mean something_ , maybe even get him laid. Armie had initially met the guy through a coworker at a business shindig, so it wasn’t a blind date, per se, but they didn’t know much of anything about each other.

Armie knew the guy—Dave—was single, gay, never married, and worked for a design firm in the city. Dave (probably) knew Armie was a bisexual widower with two small children and a successful architectural business. That was enough to go on. Oh, and Dave was cute in that geek chic sort of way, and Armie was … Armie.

He was under no illusion that his looks scored him dates. It was how he’d met his wife, Liz, years ago. She’d spotted him across a crowded bar, walked right up, and asked him to dance.

The spark had been instantaneous. He’d pretty much known she was “the one” within about five seconds, which at the time felt surreal and just a little bit mad. Liz had felt at once familiar and mysterious, like coming home but coming home to a carnival.

Now, he was going to be late to meet Dave if he didn’t hurry up and tuck in his shirt and pick the right tie—and where the hell was the babysitter? His regular gal was Saoirse, a chipper Irish graduate student at New York University. She’d cancelled last minute, though, due to a so-called “group project idiot emergency.” However, she’d been kind enough to offer up her roommate, Timmy, who she promised was a “sweet softie” who was great with kids.

Emerging into the living room, Armie spotted Harper and Ford on their bellies in the living room watching the Nature Channel. (His kids were weird. They preferred lions eating gazelle to cartoons any day.) He was relieved to see their dishes from dinner—macaroni and cheese and chicken nuggets—in the sink. Bless dear Harper, only six and already taking care of dear old dad.

Despite the loss of his wife, Armie usually kept his shit together, but it was nice to have a mini-Liz to help with extraneous detail.

As he grappled with his navy blue tie, a quiet knock sounded from the foyer. Armie practically ran to the door and tore it open to find … 

Armie’s body buzzed. His busted heart gave an unfamiliar leap. 

The guy in his apartment hallway was stunning. A masterpiece. A muse for muses.

Armie gulped and stared at those thick chestnut curls that framed a chiseled angel face with cliff edge cheekbones and an adorable chin. His mouth was rosy red with a sinful bottom lip. Thick, dark eyebrows surrounded big, dark eyes.

“Um.” The vision in Armie’s hallway cleared his throat and adjusted the bag on his shoulder. “You’re Armie?”

Armie snapped his mouth shut. Shit, he probably looked like a hungry guppy. “Uh, yeah. Timmy?”

He smiled, a flash of white teeth. “That’s me.” He quickly scanned Armie from toes to the top of his head. “Saoirse didn’t tell me you were huge.”

_She didn’t tell me you were a dream._

“Yeah, um.” His brain was hiccuping, trying to realign into that of a normal human, not a human struck by the dumb stick. “Uh, sorry, come in.” He swallowed loudly, mouth full of spit. He opened the door wide and stepped back, allowing Timmy to pass, and of course he smelled good—no, great, like spicy cologne and fresh strawberries. 

Standing in the foyer, their heights weren’t that different, but Timmy still had to look up at him, waiting, and Armie realized those dark eyes were actually a perfect shade of green because _of course they were._  

Armie kept staring like a teenage idiot until Timmy laughed, a delightful musical sound that rang like wind chimes across the high ceiling. “Do I have something on my face?”

_Yeah, you have your face on your face._

“Sorry. No.” Armie went back to wrestling his tie. “Come in.” He walked to the living room. “Harper, Ford, babysitter’s here.”

The kids hopped up from their places on the floor and rushed over. Timmy immediately crouched down to their heights and held his hand out for a shake. “Hello, I’m Timmy. Saoirse sent me to hang with you guys. Is that okay?”

Harper put on the sweet grin she knew got her everything. “Can I braid your hair?”

Armie was about to shut that down, but Timmy smiled and said, “Totally.”

Ford stepped forward and poked Timmy in the chest. “What’s that?” he said in his tiny high-pitched voice.

Timmy glanced down at the patch on the army green jacket he wore over a tight graphic tee. “You know how America has a flag with stars and stripes?”

Harper nodded with enthusiasm, while Ford just sucked two fingers into his mouth.

“Well, this is the French flag. My dad is from France. It’s a country far, far away.”

“Does it have jungles?” Harper asked, bouncing on her tiptoes while waving at the zebras on TV.

Timmy made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Sadly, no.”

Although Armie could have watched Timmy talk to his kids for the foreseeable future, he really did need to get going. “Hey, you two, could you go back and watch TV for a second? Daddy needs to talk to Timmy, okay?”

They did as told because Armie’s kids were freaking champs, and Armie did his best not to stare as Timmy ran his hands over the fronts of his jean-clad thighs as he stood. He tilted his head back, flinging curls out of the way, before turning to face Armie.

“They already had dinner,” Armie said, fidgeting, “but they can have a little snack around eight. Bedtime is 8:30, but you have to read them two books before they’ll even consider settling down. Ford’s toothbrush is the one with airplanes, and Harper’s is the—" 

“One with butterflies.” Timmy nodded. “Saoirse filled me in.” He licked his bottom lip before eyeing Armie’s neck. “Do you need help with that?”

“Huh?”

“Dude, your tie.”

Armie hadn’t even noticed he was still wrestling with it until Timmy stepped forward, right into his space, and pushed his hands away. He carefully adjusted Armie’s collar before playing with the silk around his neck.

Timmy didn’t seem phased that they were only six inches apart. If Armie had leaned forward a smidge, he could have kissed Timmy’s forehead. From his current vantage point, he noticed a little scar on Timmy’s otherwise perfect cheek. He wanted to lick it. He wanted to tackle his substitute babysitter and cover him in love bites.

Timmy sighed—his breath smelled like spearmint gum—as a strange expression crossed his handsome face: a brightening, an awakening, like someone waking from a particularly excellent dream.

Armie opened his mouth to comment, but Timmy blinked the look away rapidly. “There.” He wiggled the knot and again adjusted Armie’s collar, this time to its proper place. He ran his hands down the lapels of Armie’s suit, which wasn’t strictly necessary, but Armie wasn’t complaining. “Perfect.”

He was surprised when his eyes filled with saltwater.

Timmy’s forehead wrinkled in panic. “Hey, are you okay?”

Armie sucked in a shaky breath and nodded before wiping his hand across his face. “Sorry. Yes.” He resolutely swallowed the lump in his throat and said what he’d been thinking: “No one’s tied my tie since my wife died.”

Timmy’s eyes softened. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” Armie shook his head. “It’s not your fault.” He put on a fake smile and glanced at the stovetop clock. “Now, I’m really going to be late.” He turned to start walking, grab his wallet and keys. “I’ll be home by—” He cussed when he almost tripped over his own toes. “Midnight. Is that, is that okay?”

Timmy stood there, frozen, still looking worried. “That’s fine. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yep. Good. Harper, Ford, love you! Be good for Timmy, okay?” 

A chorus of “yes, daddy” followed him into the foyer where Armie rushed through the door and into the hall.

*** 

It was an easy walk to the Italian restaurant, and although he was definitely late, Armie didn’t rush. In his head, he talked to Liz instead: a habit he’d acquired ever since losing her to cancer two years prior. 

_Jesus, did you see that guy, babe? Pretty sure you would have left me for that bone structure._

_He was so cute with the kids. I’m afraid Saoirse is going to be out of a job._

_I swear, he looked both delicate and strong. How is that even possible? How can a guy be both? And that hair!_

_No way was he into me. Do you think he was into me? I don’t even know if he’s gay! And he’s only in his twenties. Why would he want a washed up old dude like me?_  

Armie was so busy arguing with his dead wife that he almost passed the restaurant. He halted and took a slow, deep breath.

Dave. He was meeting a nice guy named Dave for dinner, so he could stop fantasizing about his babysitter right about now. Armie had been on tons of dates since losing his wife in a desperate attempt to feel … something. However, dates usually left him empty and bored, and sex wasn’t much better. He never found connection, not even a hint of a spark.

Except, he had, minutes ago in his apartment standing in front of a guy he’d just met. Impossible. There was no way it was _that_ kind of spark. He just thought Timmy was pretty. Sexy as hell. Right? 

When he approached the hostess, she kindly informed him the rest of his party had already arrived and led him to a romantic candlelit table in the back. Dave stood when Armie approached, and he was indeed a really good-looking guy in a casual suit and black-rimmed glasses. 

They shared a quick hug before sitting, and the waiter immediately poured Armie a glass of red wine from the already open bottle. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Bit of a babysitter problem.”

“No worries.” Dave smiled. “Have an okay day?”

“Sure.” Armie hated this part—the small talk. He knew it was normal and polite in human conversation, but he sometimes understood why his kids liked the Nature Channel so much. Being a human was hard.

Slowly, they shared little details about their lives. Dave was into golf; Armie preferred baseball. Dave didn’t eat meat, which, well … that was close to a deal-breaker, but Armie kept smiling to be polite. 

He wondered about Timmy. Half French, he probably liked soccer. Timmy could teach Armie about soccer. Maybe Armie could take Timmy to a Yankees game. Would Timmy like going to a Yankees game? Would he eat a cheap hotdog, or was Timmy a vegetarian like Dave?

“But the pesto here is some of the best I’ve had in the city.” Shit, Dave was still talking. How much had Armie missed while thinking about Timmy?

He wondered about which books would Timmy read to the kids. Armie liked Timmy’s voice. It was soft but raspy with unexpected depth, silken as his hair. Armie wanted to hear Timmy’s voice reading to his kids.

More so, he wanted to hear Timmy’s voice in his bed—groaning and begging and stuttering over “Arr-rr-rr-mie.” 

“And you, sir?”

Jesus, when had the damn waiter shown up? Armie tugged at his tie, his cheeks hot. “I’ll have the, um, carbonara.”

“How would you like the egg on top?”

He stuttered. _Come on, man, you know how you like your eggs._ “Over medium, thanks.” _Get your shit together!_

The waiter smiled a creepy plastic smile before taking their menus and spinning on his heel toward the kitchen.

Dave leaned forward and folded his hands under his chin. Conversation continued—questions about movies, books, and the carefully skirted edge of politics. And this, this here, was how most of Armie’s dates went: sort of like job interviews with alcohol.

He was thankful when the food ultimately arrived, digging right in. The carbonara would have tasted better with Timmy there.

Dave wiped his mouth on a napkin before speaking. “So tell me about your kids.”

“Harper and Ford.” Armie took a sip of wine—a super dry Italian that sucked all the moisture from his mouth, which was good since thinking about Timmy made him drool. “Harper is six, and Ford is four. They’re … perfect, honestly. They’re perfect kids.”

“Easy for the babysitter, I guess.” Dave smiled and dug back into his pesto, surely unaware that he’d accidentally sent Armie’s mind spinning again. 

He watched Dave eat and thought of Timmy’s mouth. Armie couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a mouth so decadent. Armie would have guessed Timmy wore pink lipstick, but that seemed unlikely considering how often he licked his lips. The guy just naturally had a wet rose petal pout that probably felt silkier than the silkiest peach and tasted just as sweet. 

“Is it tough finding babysitters in the city?” Dave asked politely.

“Um …” _It’s tough finding one that looks like he fell off an Italian fresco, sure._ “Not really.” He pressed his lips together and tried to smile.

“It must be hard being a single dad and working as much as you do. I really applaud you for it.” Dave looked down shyly and played with his fork. “It’s very sexy actually.” 

See? Armie could easily get laid tonight. He probably could have asked for to-go boxes right then and dragged cute, sweet Dave back to a hotel. This guy was into him, so why couldn’t Armie stop thinking about Timmy?

And just like that, the lump was back in his throat, and his eyes burned. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Timmy?

_Because he tied your tie._

_Because, for those precious twenty seconds, Timmy felt like home._

It wasn’t because of anything he’d said or the way he looked—but because some part of Armie’s soul recognized Timmy, just like it had recognized Liz. Forget about a spark; Armie felt on fire … and desperate to leave, so he did the right thing and said, “Dave, I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

***

In the hour-and-a-half since he’d left his apartment, the temperature had dropped. Armie walked through a chilly breeze with his hands in his pockets and considered how fucking insane he felt.

Obviously, Timmy was stunning, just Armie’s type. He seemed unassuming and kind. He knew exactly how to talk to Armie’s kids, and he was comfortable enough with himself to be comfortable with Armie—invading his personal space to help tie his stupid tie without hesitation. Yeah, okay, he seemed great, but Armie’s all-consuming need to get back to him, to hold him and kiss him … it was a bit alarming.

But was it really? It had happened before. It had happened with Liz. 

He’d lost so much when he lost her. He’d thought his heart would never recover. He deserved another chance at love, the kind of irrational, mad love he’d had with his wife. The kind of bright, shining love that invaded his heart and made it want to explode. That made him giggle for no reason. That made him rush home like he rushed home now to see … 

Not Liz. Liz was gone. Would always be gone.

Timmy. He wanted to see Timmy. 

He skipped the elevator and took the steps two at a time. He rushed down the hallway to his apartment and pulled out his keys. He walked inside quietly, right at the kids’ bedtimes, to find the living room silent, TV off. He set his keys on the counter and walked further inside, where he almost ran into Timmy carrying a sleeping Ford. 

Timmy’s forehead wrinkled. He whispered, “Why are you home already?”

Armie opened his mouth to answer but stopped and smiled when he noticed messy braids—Harper’s doing—that made Timmy’s hair stand up on one side. Without thinking, Armie finger-brushed the braids away. Timmy closed his eyes and leaned into his touch until, like earlier, shaking himself as if he’d just awoken.

Timmy held up one hand and made the short trip to Ford’s bedroom. From the doorway, Armie watched his babysitter tuck his precious son gently into bed, and his heart melted a little.

Timmy glanced back at the bed before closing the door behind him with a muffled _click._ He walked past Armie and into the kitchen. “He fell asleep in Harper’s bed before I finished the second book. They both did actually.” He ran a hand through his messy hair and leaned against the kitchen island. “It’s only 8:45. Did your date suck that badly?”

Armie opened his mouth. And closed it. How could he explain without sounding like a madman? Might as well open with that. “This is going to sound crazy.”

Timmy crossed his legs at the ankles. “Oh-kay.”

“You ruined my date.”

His eyebrows jumped. “Hey, now, I suck at dates, but there’s no way I ruined yours from inside this apartment.”

Armie took a step forward, closing the gap between them. “There I was in this perfectly nice Italian restaurant with a perfectly nice guy name Dave.” He rested his palms on the island on either side of Timmy. “And all I could think about was you.”

Timmy stood up straight but didn’t lean forward or back. They weren’t even as close as they’d been when Timmy had tied Armie’s tie, and yet, the entire world felt warmer, charged and waiting.

“You don’t even know me,” Timmy said.

“I feel like I do. Does that make any sense?”

Timmy ran his fingertips along the side of Armie’s jaw, his wide eyes tracing the movement. His tongue poked at the side of his lip, and he nodded. “You feel …” 

They said “familiar” at the same time, which made Timmy smile, bright and big. Armie couldn’t help but return the gesture.

Then, he whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

Timmy’s eyes blinked shut. “Yes, please.”

Before leaning in, Armie took just a few seconds to admire the tiny smile still curling Timmy’s lips and the way he tilted his chin up at Armie, just waiting. Armie didn’t let him wait long. He pressed their lips together and saw fireworks behind his eyes.

Timmy’s mouth was as soft as expected, warm and welcoming, and although Armie offered just a gentle caress, Timmy dug his hands into the back of Armie’s hair and pulled him down harder, closer, until their tongues touched.

That long lost giddy feeling blossomed in Armie’s gut as he pressed Timmy back against the island and allowed his lips to be nibbled and sucked until he was out of breath, forehead against Timmy’s, whispering his name.

“Fuck, that was a kiss,” Timmy muttered with his eyes still shut. He clung to Armie as though afraid he might fall over.

Armie felt similarly unmoored. He nuzzled his face against the side of Timmy’s neck, holding tight to the edge of the island. “Lay down with me?”

“Sure,” Timmy huffed. “If you can carry me to the couch. My legs feel like jelly.” 

Armie snorted and sucked Timmy’s earlobe.

“Annnnnd, that’s not helping.”

Because he could, Armie did indeed pick Timmy up and tossed him over his shoulder. Timmy giggled but quickly stifled the sound with his hands.

They ended up tangled on the couch with Armie on his back and Timmy sprawled across him, playing with the buttons on his shirt. 

“Can I take you on a date?” Armie asked. 

“You’ll have to ask Saoirse to babysit.”

Armie chuckled and kissed the top of Timmy’s head. Since Timmy was now in only his t-shirt, it was easy to reach his hand up the back and finger the nubs of his spine. “Seriously, though.”

Timmy leaned up and hovered over Armie. He gave Armie’s chin a quick squeeze. “Okay.”

“What’s your favorite sport?”

“Basketball,” Timmy said.

“Huh. Do you eat meat?” 

“Duh. Although I only order cheese on my pizza.”

Armie’s brow furrowed. “That’s just … terrible. Then again, my wife liked pineapple on her pizza, which was disgusting.”

Timmy hummed and loosened the knot of Armie’s tie. “You miss her a lot?”

Armie wrapped some of Timmy’s curls around his finger. “When I first met Liz, it felt like … coming home, so when I lost her two years ago …”

“You lost your home.” 

Armie’s eyes burned. “But I still have Harper and Ford, and I give them a home. I guess I’ve just been homeless. Then, tonight,” he sniffed, “you tied my tie, and it felt … it felt like you’d done it before.”

Timmy was blinking—a lot—so it took Armie a second to realize his eyes were wet. He wiped the back of his wrist across his cheeks. “Shit, I just came over here to make eighty bucks.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“No.” Timmy leaned up on one arm and did some sniffling of his own. “I feel it, too. Fuck, I didn’t think shit like this was real.”

Armie sat up and adjusted them both until he happily had Timmy straddling his lap. He rested his hands on Timmy’s thighs and stared up at him. “Just let me take you to dinner.”

Timmy’s hands squeezed Armie’s shoulders. “I don’t like sushi.”

“Me neither.”

Timmy smiled, even though his eyes were still a little red. “I should go home.”

Like a needy child, Armie wrapped his arms around Timmy’s slim waist. “Stay a little longer?” 

“Fine.” Timmy kissed his cheek. “But, just so you know, I don’t put out on the first date, even if you do look like every one of my teenage masturbatory fantasies.”

Armie laughed with his face pressed to Timmy’s chest and breathed in the alluring spicy-sweet scent of him: a mix of October bonfires and ripe fruit.

They talked long into the night until Timmy eventually fell asleep on Armie’s chest, mouth open and breathing out warm little puffs of air. Armie stayed awake for a while to watch him and marveled at every twitch of Timmy’s eyelids, every time his fist clenched and released the fabric of Armie’s shirt.

“You really would have liked him, Liz,” Armie whispered to the silent room and pictured a future where his heart was no longer broken, its empty cracks filled by the young man born to do it.

**Author's Note:**

> Come play with me on [Tumblr](http://saradobiebauer.tumblr.com/)! I'm ridiculously in love with Timmy over there.


End file.
